Page 60 of Wolf's Keep

Erin hesitated, then took a risk he would not have connections across the sea. “Yes, I’m from Bretaigne.” She could only hope Gaharet didn’t give Comte Lothair a conflicting answer.

He pursed his lips. “Rather convenient.”

“Pardon?”

“Sorry, my dear.” He patted her arm again. “Only muttering away to myself. You are such an unusual choice for someone such as d’Louncrais, that is all. I suspect he has his reasons for choosing an older woman with no known connections, wealth or family.”

She opened her mouth to answer him, but he cut her off with an indulgent smile.

“Reasons beyond this debt I am hearing talk of. The comte would dissolve this obligation if d’Louncrais asked it of him. Or d’Louncrais could ensure your financial security in other ways. Find you a suitable husband, a widower perhaps. Yet he has chosen to wed you. I find that rather curious.”

Wonderful.Neither the comte, nor the highest-ranking priest, found Gaharet’s choice of a bride satisfactory. Or his explanation.

“Perhaps he likes me for my disposition, or my beauty.” She struggled to keep an edge from creeping into her voice.

The archeveque smiled, all teeth, jutting cheekbones and cold eyes. “Mayhap it is as you say.” His expression proclaimed he doubted it very much. “If my memory serves me, Gaharet’s father married in much the same manner. Caused quite a stir. The d’Louncrais always did things their own way.”

He led her down another corridor, this one darker, narrower. Before them, an open doorway leading to a darkened room. So much for a tour. After descending two flights of stairs, they should be on the lower level of the keep. Nothing down here but storerooms. Odd that he should bring her here.

“Would you hold this for me while I set to lighting this room?” Without waiting for her to answer, he withdrew a key from within his black robes and handed it to her, detached a lit oil lamp from the wall and disappeared into the room.

Erin frowned, tapping the key against her hand, pacing the corridor. She’d like to think as a member of the clergy she could trust he meant her no harm, but in this era men entered the priesthood for a variety of reasons, some of which had little to do with a calling from God. Should she take this opportunity to leave him, return to the room of women and their embroidery? She might make a few wrong turns finding her way back, but she’d manage.

She held the key against her chin. Upsetting an archeveque might not be wise, and she’d no real justification for thinking he had ulterior motives. Only a vague, unsettled feeling in her gut.

And what of this key he’d given her to hold? Chunky, lacking in the intricacy of more modern ones, it had all the hallmarks of a tenth-century key, except for one thing. It appeared to be made of silver.Highly unusual.More commonly they were made of copper alloy or iron. Not this one. It brought to mind the shackles she’d found in the underground cell.

Erin paused in her pacing and surveyed her surroundings, attempting to place herself amongst the layout of the ruins she knew so well. The lower level, a doorway at the end of a long corridor—it all looked disturbingly familiar. Could she be standing only meters from the grate to the underground cell? The cell Gaharet would die in? A tightness wrapped around her lungs and her throat. Had Comte Lothair already confined Gaharet in there? Could that be why the archeveque had brought her down here?

She stalked toward the room, intent on gaining access, but the archeveque appeared, blocking her entry.

“Ah, my dear, the key, if you do not mind?” He took it from her, as she angled to see past him into the now-lit room, his large shoulders impeding her view.

The archeveque grabbed her hands, rubbing his thumbs over her palms. She recoiled from his touch, but he held her hands fast, surprisingly strong for a man of his age.

“Hmm. Not a single mark. No burns, blisters, not even a reddening of the skin.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are not one of them. At least not yet.”

Erin wrenched her hands out of his grasp, pushing past the archeveque into the room. There. In the corner. Just as she suspected. A heavy iron grate covering a hole. If she went any closer, she’d see narrow, steep steps. Steps she’d trudged up and down a hundred times.

She spun back to the archeveque. She pointed at the offending grate. “Who have you put in there? Is it Gaharet? And what do you mean, I am not one of them? One of what?”

The archeveque remained in the doorway, impeding her exit.Shit.She’d trapped herself.

Bad move, Erin.

“Why would you think we would confine d’Louncrais? Do you know what he truly is?” The archeveque’s stare bored into her. Erin swallowed. Whatever secret Gaharet protected, it was a secret no more. Perhaps he did still practice the old religion, or they suspected he did.

The archeveque tilted his head, running his gaze over her, assessing her. She shivered. With a priest involved, that was the most likely explanation. Had he thought she’d blister and burn at the touch of silver? Is that why he’d handed her the key?

“Perhaps he revealed himself to you, showed you his true form?”

True form?“Votre Excellence, I’m afraid I don’t know what you speak of. Seigneur d’Louncrais is a good man, a fine match. You said so yourself. He has shown me nothing but kindness. In the time I’ve spent in his keep, I’ve seen nothing untoward. Nothing I would imagine would require his confinement.”

If the archeveque ever got his hands on an amulet, her words would mean nothing. That didn’t mean Gaharet deserved to die in that cell. Or that she wouldn’t do whatever she could to prevent him from being imprisoned there. She’d take him to the twenty-first century with her if she had to. Because he was a good man. And he’d taken care of her when he didn’t have to.

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